


a ride home

by cptsuke



Series: 32 [3]
Category: The Losers (Comic), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pooch. at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a ride home

**Author's Note:**

> obvs spoilers for the comic ending.

The gun sits heavy in Pooch's hand but his wife's sad gaze is heavier on his back. She knows what choice he'll make, and she knows how much it'll hurt him to leave. Jolene has always been too smart, too perfect for him, always knew what he was going to do before Pooch even knew he had a decision to make.

But he can't stay here.

God but he wishes he could. Stay here with his girls. Stay here where his family is, but he can't while there's a part of him in Qatar about to stage a coup on New Jerusalem. Pooch was a Loser whether he liked it or not, tied to those three fucked up people in ways he's glad his wife never asked him to explain.

His finger stump throbs as he gets ready to leave.

_He was so close._

 

 

Pooch gets as far as Doha International Airport, running on the need to be _there_ , to do  _something_. There's a list of phone numbers that no longer work folded between the pages of his fake passport and now he has no idea what to do.

Stegler's call is a goddamned godsend; gives him a mission, a place to go.

And soon he's hovering over the open sea where he had hoped to see his team floating. The water is choppy, visibility isn't great, and Pooch hopes to hell that's the reason he's not seeing _anyone_ at all.

Then there's a flash of yellow in the dipping blue and white waves.

Jensen climbs on board with a string of curse words and dripping saltwater. He seems so relieved that for a brief moment Pooch thinks everything might be okay. Then Pooch opens his mouth – _asks_ \- and Jensen says _No._

_No?_

Jensen doesn't say anything for a long moment, just looks equal parts tired and shattered when Pooch looks at him. Jensen doesn't tell him anything about what happened; just says it wasn't Pooch's fault, _thanks_ Pooch for coming for him and changes the subject to the likelihood of their oncoming demise.

 

But Pooch didn't come all this way to let some asshole sheik shoot him and his buddy down, and maybe Pooch had packed too many parachutes, but in the end they walk away.

They get their feet once again on firm earth, the tilt-a-rotor making its way off on autopilot with a jet escort that's most likely going to to be shooting missiles at the 'rotor soon,and  a fading mushroom cloud in the distance signalling the death of the newly born country.

Jensen's staring at it while Pooch unhooks himself from his chute, is still staring at it when Pooch walks over to unclip him.

“Come on.” Pooch puts his hand on Jensen's shoulder – he's still damp and shivering – spins him away from the sight, finds himself closer, arms slinging over Jensen's shoulder as they start forward. The sun's almost completely down and Pooch can almost kid himself that it's just like old times.

Just sand and stars and a forever deep indigo sky. Just miles and miles of desert to cross before they can maybe find a bed and something hot to eat.  Where they can go  _home_ , forget all about Max, and Clay, and nukes and seeing their best friend go down. Where they can maybe start remembering the good times.  

Because they  _did_ have them.

Once.

One foot in front of the other, they keep walking.


End file.
